Fairspell Meadow trying to find tomorrow and ease in, til you dive in

a transformation came over the crone as the man's language swapped. there was something coarse, even vulgar, about the loss of that language -- qiao had never heard it, but it reminded her of the tongue of her sisters, a language that she did not know was far older than her own or french.

"what are we digging for? hah!" qiao crowed, a jeer aimed towards the sulking spirits of her sisters. they remained silent -- so unhelpful.

"they won't tell me." she admitted, pulling a stone from the frozen soil with a frown. would he understand, could he understand? qiao found men and their imagination limited. "there is something here, ah. something old -- i feel it, but i know not its shape. so i dig! i dig."

qiao turned back around, new determination hung upon her thin muzzle.